Nature's Harvest
by Volkor
Summary: The forest beckons...


At Forest's Edge.

A quiet village lies nestled in the bosom of the forest. Her coniferous sentinels stand tall and vigilant, stretching their long boughs over thatched rooftops and quaint gardens. The flowers are the first to wake, they turn their sleepy petals towards the pale eastern sky in hopes of catching the sun's first light as it spills over the hidden dell. Next, the rooster finds it's voice; believing itself to be the harbinger of dawn, it announces from its perch the start of a new day. Ordinarily, this feathered herald would rouse the townsfolk, pulling them ashore from a customarily deep and peaceful slumber. They'd rise and begin their merry work, laughing and joking as they tended to greenery and calf. The sun would sail through the serene blue, warming the backs of farmers and stonemasons. Children would play with piglets and bluebirds, chasing fun wherever it fled. The afternoon would give way to evening, the sun would sink behind the trees, suppers would be eaten, beer would be drank, and another night of pleasant dreams would descend upon the humble people of Leventhal. At least, that's how it usually goes.

Out of the void you emerge, plunging upward into a sea of light and sound. Splashing through a shattering veil, you find yourself sitting upright in a bed, drenched in sweat and out of breath. Was it a dream? A nightmare? Your memory quickly fails you, dissipating like a mist. The vague and unsettling notion of being watched by an unseen predator begins to lose its grip on your conscious concerns, and the inherently peaceful nature of your waking life returns to you, settling your nerves.

Without memory of the circumstances and events of the previous evening, you figure that a night of heavy drinking must have lured your sleeping brain to conjure some phantasm, perhaps a golem from old folklore or a beast of the sea. A harmless nightmare, unusual, but nothing more. As you shake off the lingering unpleasantness of turbulent night's sleep, you notice the warm rays of the afternoon sun pouring through your open window, beckoning you to greet the day. An uncharacteristic late start awaits you beyond the comfort of your bed, and tossing aside your blanket to reveal a hard body sculpted by years of manual labor, you plant your feet firmly on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. It's cool and smooth beneath you, and with renewed vigor you spring upright to stretch your glistening ligaments and joints. Your body crackles with pleasure, releasing a flood of endorphins as you awaken your chiseled musculature. Despite the strangeness of your day's first moments, you find yourself filled with a mysterious excitement and physical desire. You feel stronger than usual, faster than usual, and ready to work for the betterment of your community. This positive energy mustn't go to waste!

In large strides you exit your bedroom, and immediately notice an incredible scent on the air: a bouquet of meats, eggs, bread and fruit fills your nostrils, teasing your appetite which you now notice is more ravenous than usual. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, you discover a large spread of wonderfully prepared breakfast food and drink. Plates are stacked with ham, bacon, buttered bread and pancakes, with enough syrup and orange juice to drown a small child. Freshly prepared, the buffet sits on your table, begging to be devoured, but who on Earth prepared it? Last you checked you were unmarried, and had no gourmets as friends. Was there some festival you'd forgotten? Everyone in the village knows how hard you work, perhaps your neighbors noticed your absence this morning and decided to let you rest, preparing this exquisite breakfast for you as a gesture of thanks and good will.

Your father always told you to never question a free meal, and so, heeding his advice, you chow down. Each bite is more incredible than the last, your mouth is filled over and over again with remarkably delicious flavors, and your notoriously bottomless stomach is very quickly satisfied. Before long, the feast is decimated, and only hambones, dirty plates, and used napkins remain. As you pile a stack of dishes into your sink, you make a note to yourself to carve something as a thank you gift for your neighbors.

Deciding that you've put off your work long enough, you wash and dress in a hurry, eager to go out and greet your fellow villagers, who no doubt would grow concerned if you remained indoors much longer. The people of Leventhal are closely knit indeed, being largely unheard of in the world outside the borders of the forest. Generations of people have lived in the same houses, worked the same farms, and tended the same fields for over two hundred years. It wouldn't do for the chief lumberjack to shirk his responsibilities to gain a few extra hours of sleep. Best to not arouse suspicions of laziness.

Grabbing your father's hefty woodcutting axe, you open the front door of your comfy homestead to venture out into town. As you make your way down the dirt path leading to the main stretch of road, you notice a peculiar lack of activity. There are no voices cheering or laughing in the distance, no clattering of tools or birdsongs carried on the wind.


End file.
